In Heat
by Sam St. James
Summary: Being trapped in an enclosed space things become heated in the most literal way and they certainly don't cool down in the showers afterwards; Jack is always one to keep his promises.
1. In Heat

A/N: Not much to say about this story. I hope you enjoy it.

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**In Heat**

The bead of sweat is almost hovering in mid-air, weightless, where it hangs below her chin for a second, wavering, quivering before it is fueled by another small dribble of sweat and gravity wins. The small drop hits his chest, his already soaked through blue shirt and undershirt. Her tongue darts out, moistening her lips, tasting the salt of her own sweat which is running along the corners of her mouth, an almost steady stream towards her chin where another drop is already forming.

"Sorry." She mumbles obviously embarrassed, beads of sweat clearly visible on her upper lip and forehead, her face contorted in concentration. The light of his torchlight as it is reflected by the polished metal surrounding them gives the exposed sweat slickened skin of her face and cleavage an ethereal and very much appealing sheen.

"Not your fault." Jack smiles at her, but the tone of his voice is a little bit off, hoarse with barely hidden arousal.

"Yeah... but still." She's oblivious to it, or at least she's pretending to be, biting her lower lip as he sees another wave of spasm work in the muscles of her arms.

They were trapped in that vent now for a little longer than thirty minutes and the muscles of Gwen's arms were starting to quiver under the strain to support most of her body weight in that awkward press-up position she was in. Ten minutes after the trap door had shut down, locking them in, she had first succumbed to kneel, her knees pressed against his thighs and the wall, and had stayed in this position, on her hands and knees, ever since. Despite her efforts he can still feel the heat radiating of her body, scorching him.

He knows he should offer her that they'd switch positions, so that she could lie down and he'd be on top, but he doesn't. Because he's a bastard who wants to see the defeat in her face when she finally gives in and lies down on him, her heated, sweaty body pressed against his by the force of gravitation; what a shame they were clothed. Now, if _that_ wasn't an unbelievably hot image… If she was so determined to fight the very apparent attraction between them, then he'd play along; this was a game for two after all and he'd be damned if he didn't enjoy it. And who had ever said he had to play fair? Apart from that absolutely inappropriate but very much motivating reason he also knows that switching positions in that confined space wouldn't be a very good idea. Too much friction between them, too much possible ways of skin on skin slick with sweat, a too hot and humid environment and way too much fantasies playing in the back of his head; his self control is only _so_ strong.

"You know... the idea of being chased by those five bloodthirsty Rottweiler's becomes more and more appealing with every second." Gwen finally says, voice pressed as another drop of sweat falls from her chin, her hair brushing over his chest as she shakes her head a little. The tactile sensation causing a shiver to run down his spine, colliding with a wave of scorching heat coming directly from his groin. A trail of sweat streams down her neck, starting at her temples, where her hair is already hanging in wet strands, and then vanishing in the v-neck of her t-shirt. The sweat soaked fabric clings to her skin; she must be literally melting with her leather jacket still on.

"Yeah. I didn't expect this door to fall shut." And he didn't expect the boiling heat and humid air, making this vent a sauna, especially with two bodies so close together; he's not complaining, though. "You should try to get out of this jacket, you must be dying in there." He finally says, tongue darting out in anticipation as another drop of sweat hits his chest, the spray of it reaching his lips.

She nods but doesn't move and Jack can see the thoughts of how she could accomplish that particular task without compromising herself running through her head. He almost laughs, because he knows there is no way. With a sigh Gwen finally gives in to the inevitable, bending her knees and lowering herself until her breasts almost brush against his chest, but not quite touching, while lifting her hands from the ground to wriggle the left arm out of its leathery encasing; the effort of keeping the necessary body tension needed for this move written all over her face. More sweat beads are dropping down onto him as she works nearly frantically, trying to wrench the leather jacket from her sweaty body.

Gwen is obviously neither trusting him nor herself in this situation; and she is absolutely right with that notion. In the end she has to give in, though, at least a little, and _sit down_ to straddle him; he's suppressing the moan threatening to escape his lips when she involuntarily inflicts just the right amount of pressure and friction as her jeans clad behind settles down on him.

She is panting a little when she finally manages to free herself from the jacket and he is panting too but for completely different reasons. The discarded cloth lies next to his head, the scent of the warm, sweaty leather harbouring Gwen's essence invading his senses, intoxicating.

"How long do you think until Ianto finds us?" She asks, still straddling him and he can hear by the high pitch in her tone that she very much noticed his erection pressing against her.

"Dunno." Depending on Gwen's willpower to stay away from him it's either _too long_ or _not long enough_.

His own resistance has long been burnt away by the lust and tension building up, coiling in the back of his spine. It's already hard enough not to give in to the temptation to thrust his hips upward, grind against her or pull her down to claim her lips or… _do both_, so whatever happened next was solely up to her and how long she could stay focused and uphold her determination to not give in to the longing, the desire that had been constantly growing between them from the first time their eyes locked. Ever since that day when he caught sight of her staring down in that car park he had told himself numerous times that he didn't want her, that he respected her too much, that he loved her too much as a comrade to simply go and seduce her, drag her into his bed and fuck her until her brain melted and they both forgot who and where they were; despite his qualities as a conman he had always been bad at lying to himself.

Gwen rolls her eyes at him in annoyance, her nostrils flaring, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. "What is it with you men, enclosed spaces and hard-ons?" The discomfort suddenly displayed on her face makes him think that maybe she didn't really intend to say that out loud; another bead of sweat drops from her chin.

"Well, maybe it's not _us_, it's _you_?" He tries to sound cheerful, light, but fails and his words come out a lot more lustful than planned. The implications his voice held were almost making himself blush as vivid images illustrating his fantasies run through his head, unbidden, stressing his self-control.

"Pfff…" She exhales sharply, her lips twitching. "Men…" Gwen mutters under her breath, shaking her head in an effort to push a wet strand of hair away which is plastered to her cheek; the wet strand doesn't move an inch, glued to her skin.

"Sorry." He reaches up, plucking the offending hair away, using this chance to let his fingertips caress the damp silken skin of her cheek.

There is no anger or annoyance in her voice, just slight resignation; she knows him too well. "No, you're not."

Jack can't help but to laugh at that. "You're right." He reaches up to cup her cheeks, gently forcing her to look him in the eyes. "I'm not sorry for wanting you." The impulsive boldness of his words even sounds a bit wrong to him and Gwen winces a little at the impact of it, big, shiny, innocent green eyes becoming even bigger. The literally hot atmosphere was obviously getting to him, making him say things he normally kept to himself.

He bites his lip scolding himself, his hands letting go of her to rest again next to his body while Gwen shifts her weight uncomfortably, swallowing hard, sweat streaming down her face and neck. He can see that she is trying to hide her feeling of growing uneasiness by attempting to rub her wet palms dry on her sweat soaked jeans as she doesn't seem to find suitable grip on the metal surface. For apparent reasons that is a war she can't win.

Although their hiding place is supposed to be part of an air vent it's obviously not very effective at its predesigned task because it feels as if the hot humid air, which already strongly smells of sex and arousal isn't moving at all. Jack feels almost a bit dizzy, a lot giddy and more than a lot horny from the heady, mixed scent of their heavily sweating bodies, musky and salty, a sweet, intoxicating flavour on his tongue with every breath he takes, especially with the level of his 51th century pheromones probably already being miles off the chart. He wasn't sure how Gwen had managed to overcome the powerful tug of temptation that that must exert on her for such a long time, but if her facial expression is any hint she was almost feeling physical pain by now.

Finally Jacks last bit of newly found resolve to not touch her breaks because he just can't stand this kind of sweet torture any longer, his cock so hard inside his pants, straining against the fabric that it hurts. His left hand glides up her arm, hot skin sliding over hot skin slippery with sweat; the sensation seems to burn from his hand all the way through his arm down to his throbbing erection. "Gwen..." He whispers huskily, half-pleading, lust evident in his voice, eyes heavy lidded with desire while she just stares, frozen like a statue, at his hand as it slides ever so slowly up her bare arm. Jack can literally see how Gwen's determination to resist him goes to hell, her nipples becoming visible hard erect buds under her shirt and bra. She swallows before exhaling slowly, cheeks flushing a little, pupils dilating so much that her widened eyes seem to be pitch-black when she looks at him.

Gwen isn't moving, isn't even saying a word while his hand has already found it's destination in the nape of her neck, his thumb massaging hynotising circles on her damp skin, his fingers tangling in the wet hair. Jack arches up a little, his mouth finding one of the taught nipples, sucking it through her clothes until he is satisfied by the desperate panting coming out of her mouth and the erratic trembling of her body. He leaves the nipple, pulling her down to him to finally press his lips to hers in their first real kiss; his hand cupping the breast he had neglected with his mouth.

The sweat makes both their lips taste salty, but Jack knows if Gwen would just allow his tongue to push past her teeth he would be able to savour the sweetness of that wet, hot mouth of her. He groans in frustration at her still apparent resistance, the deep rumbling of his chest vibrating throughout her body. His teeth gently biting her lower lip, tugging at it, he twirls a nipple between thumb and forefinger and uses the silent moan that his action elicits to delve his tongue inside her mouth.

Although he didn't deem it possible he gets even more aroused as he finally feels Gwen surrender, her tongue meeting his after her initial reluctance. The kiss deepens, urgent, passionate, hot skin sliding over hot skin slickened with sweat or dampened clothes as Gwen leans further down to him. When they break apart they are both gasping for air.

They kiss again. It's needy and hungry, wet and hot, lips and teeth and tongue and bordering from gentle to aggressive and demanding.

The outside world loses all significance to Jack. All that matters is the slightly writhing body of the woman on top of him and the urge to bury, to lose himself deep inside her wet heat. When he is sure Gwen won't pull away from him anymore his hand leaves her neck to grab her arse, pulling her down onto his erection, making her gasp as he grinds his hips against her, his clothed erection sliding against the crotch of her jeans. They fall into a steady rocking motion, perfectly in sync.

***

"Jack? Gwen?" They both freeze in their doings as they hear the familiar voice calling for them.

"Ianto!" Gwen responds immediately to their colleague, shaking passion and lust off her, her fists connecting with the metal of their prison.

_Not long enough, definitively not long enough._ Jack runs his hand roughly through his damp hair, frustration surging through him; it takes a lot of willpower to not let his frustration turn into anger and aggression. No cold shower in the world would be able to still, to cool this desire.

"Oh god! Ianto, it's so good to see you!" Gwen exclaims as the door of the vent is finally open again. The cool fresh air feels like a shock on the heated sweat-slick skin.

He sees Ianto flare his nostrils at the heavy scent suddenly engulfing him and his face distorts in distaste; he glares at Jack, well knowing what had been going on before he interrupted them and he wouldn't need to have a lot of fantasy either to imagine where it would have gone from there.

Jack grabs one of Gwen's arms as she tries to climb away from him, the sudden loss of contact only fueling his frustration, pulling her roughly back down onto him. His lips hungrily graze her cheek, moving to her ear, leaving a wet trail on her salty skin, the whispered words insistent, demanding, his voice conveying his only barely contained desire and need. "We'll need to finish this… _later_." It's almost a threat.

Her violent shudder is the only acknowledgement of his actions, before she gratefully accepts Ianto's outstretched hand and lets him help her out of the vent.

Jack takes some deep calming breaths, fighting back against the desire still clouding his senses, because that never was a good thing when dealing with other people if he didn't intend to fuck them (he couldn't care less about what anyone might think with regard to his still very obvious hard-on), before he follows her. He doesn't even try to hide the smug smirk finally seeing Gwen's debauched attire in all its beauty as she stands in front of a glaring Ianto, hands stemmed to her hips. Her clothes are clinging to her skin, soaked through with sweat, accentuating those very sexy curves and explicitly the still hardened nipples, her eyeliner and what little make-up she wears a ruin on her face, her hair ruffled and damp with sweat; the sweat on her skin has not yet dried. Not to mention those gorgeous lips, reddened and swollen from their kissing.

The three policemen accompanying Ianto were literally gawping at her and despite the annoyance he felt at anyone looking at _his_ Gwen like _that_, he couldn't really fault them.

He didn't think he looked a lot more respectable either, drenched with sweat himself, though. Frankly, he didn't give a rats.

"Must have been pretty hot in there." Ianto remarks dryly and with only barely hidden anger as they walk back towards the SUV, glancing from Jack to Gwen and back to Jack, his disapproval of the state they are in all written over his face.

Jacks only response is to put his arm around Gwen's waist, causing her to slightly shiver at his touch, and smirk at Ianto. "You have _no_ idea."


	2. Showering

A/N: So... here we go. I got to honestly admit that I think this doesn't meet up with chapter 1, but while writing it I suddenly stumbled over so much hidden angst, that things got a bit out of hand. I hope it's still hot and enjoyable, though.

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**Showering**

Upon entering the shower room he is greeted by the sound of running water and a wave of heavy, fruity-scented steam. The air is warm and humid, condensate coating the white tiled walls and foggy steam clouds waver around him. He follows the sound of the running water as if it is a sirens song, calling out to him, the slippery wet floor slightly cold under his bare feet.

Only one of the several shower stalls is occupied and even through the misty air he can clearly make out Gwen's deliciously curved figure. The lined up shower stalls are open at the back, not even curtains blocking the view, for all intents and purposes providing the needed privacy in case a lot of people needed to shower at the same time, but definitively being slightly outdated compared to today's standards. Jack certainly doesn't mind.

Gwen doesn't see him approaching because her eyes are closed as she massages, rubs shampoo into her hair, hands vanishing in a white mass of foam and bubbles; the sweet fruity scent getting stronger the nearer he gets. He watches her intently as she steps back under the spray of water, rinsing the shampoo away, hands combing through the now seemingly pitch black wet hair, which forms a stark contrast to her pale, almost white skin. Thousands of water droplets coating her skin reflect the light in just the right angle; she seems to be covered in pearls and diamonds. _Oh God... and she is so beautiful_. His arousal returns with a vengeance, sending his head spinning for a minute. Images flutter in front of his inner eye, him hoisting Gwen up against the tiled wall, his hands clutching her arse, grabbing muscled thighs, her legs circling his waist, pulling him closer, deeper... passion surging through them, their movements urgent, erratic, while they grind against each other, almost frantically yearning for release...

_Focus! _He has to stay in control, at least as long as it takes to seduce Gwen, and keeping the willpower in mind which she displayed earlier that could probably take quite a while.

When his hand comes to rest on her shoulder, her wet skin warm under his palm, she jumps a little, spooked; obviously she didn't hear him approach. "Jack?"

"Yeah." He squeezes her shoulder a little, reassuring, when he feels the muscles tense.

"Christ... don't sneak up on me like that. I thought I get a heart attack!" Despite the light tone, he can hear the tension, the tautness of nerves in her voice. Her jaw clenches. "Are you... are you naked?"

"Yes." If there hadn't been the slight panic in her voice he might have cracked a joke about questioning the obvious.

Now that the heated, sexually charged atmosphere of their imprisoning had dissipated Gwen was back to her determination to stay faithful to her beloved husband and fend him and the temptation he exerted off, while he feels the unresolved desire burn hot and low in his gut, a stomach-churning mass of red-hot coal. "Oh God..." Gwen's voice is all but a terrified whisper, goose-bumps spreading over her body, the hair on her arms and neck raising; not exactly the reaction he had hoped for.

She attempts to turn and wipe the water away from her eyes so that she could open them, but he stops her, gently taking hold of her hands when his arms encircle her, her back turned towards him. "Shhh." He whispers soothingly as he feels her tense against him, muscles flexing under his touch. After a moment of silent struggling against his grip he feels her arms rest slack at her sides. "Just keep your eyes closed."

She somewhat nods in response, inclining her head a little, swallowing visibly. Her body has so thoroughly tensed up that she is a rigid statue in his embrace. He can almost feel the quickening in pace of her pulse, her normally steady heartbeat turning into a fluttering staccato. Carefully he brushes the wet hair away from her neck, his fingers sliding over her smooth skin, _so soft, _before he pulls her just a little closer to him until her back rests firmly against his chest. The breath hitches in her throat, her lips slightly parted.

And they're back at the shooting range. For a second the memory is so vivid, so real that he can almost smell the gun powder. The only difference is that now his hand lies low on the bare skin of her stomach, no clothes separating them, only wet skin on wet skin; this time he won't let her go. He rests his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes, enjoying the warmth of her body so close to his, _so close_ and the spray of the shower as it finally washes the sweat from the day off him. "Let me wash you."

"Jack, I don't think..." The pitch of her voice is off, a little bit too shrill, nervous, but her eyes are still closed, because despite everything he did and said today, deep down she trusts him, even _blindly_.

"Let me wash you." His voice is soft as he repeats what he wants, but that doesn't change the fact that he is demanding it now, insisting; it still is an order.

Gwen finally complies after what feels like an eternity to him, albeit _reluctantly._ She nods, exhaling slowly as if steeling herself for an especially awkward or nasty task. "Okay, fine."

Jack hugs her slightly, soothingly, indicating they're on safe territory, _friendly_ but can't suppress the giddy smile from spreading on his lips as he reaches for the shower gel. "Good girl." His lips graze the skin of her shoulder, his tongue licking away some droplets of water and he feels her shiver despite the warmth of their surroundings; he could almost taste the adrenaline rushing through her veins, a slightly acrid prickle on his tongue.

He knows he has to be careful here, very careful especially concerning choice of words and actions, although his blood screamed for a fast end to his abstinence. A slow approach was needed, sensitive, delicate, because Gwen was already tense enough, so if he pressed matters too much, cornering her, she might just bolt and run; he wasn't sure he would be able to endure that, not to mention what it could do to their relationship.

He nudges her to take a step back until the spray of water is not hitting them directly anymore. Gwen's breathing has become a little ragged, her chest heaving, blood definitively pumping rapidly as he can see looking at a vein at her neck, pulsing; her whole body is poised for a fight or flight reaction and just waiting for the signal. Jack only barely resists the urge to sigh in frustration. On the other hand, he had not really expected any other reaction, although hoped for more _enthusiasm_ on her part.

There was definitively some kind of irony there and maybe when the pressure from his loins stopped he would be able to laugh about it and not gnash his teeth in exasperation. Despite her almost downright frightened reaction to his advances and his physical closeness he knew that Gwen was far from being unwilling. She was just restricted and mentally tortured by a very active conscience and learned morals that seemed outdated to him. But they weren't outdated for her and if her affair with Owen had weighed her down he wasn't sure he even wanted to imagine what they were about to do would do to her. It would only remind him why he had labeled her off limits in the first place and he was in no mood to have a battle between what his own conscience screamed (with a voice very much resembling the Doctors) and his body demanded going on in his head. He wanted her and _he wanted her_ _now,_ consequences be damned; for all he cared the world could end right now as long as he got Gwen.

Jack squeezes a portion of the greenishly glistening shower gel on his palm, spreading it evenly over both hands until they are equally slippery with the rich gel. She shudders a little when his hands glide over her shoulders, at first only ghosting, but soon fully touching the soft, warm skin, massaging. The fresh invigorating scent of Gwen's shower gel envelops them as his fingers work on her, generating soapy foam.

"Fruity shampoo but mint in the shower gel?"

"It's soothing and cool. Just what you need after a long and tedious day at work." She explains and shyly laughs at that, but twitches a little when his thumbs dig into the tightened muscles around her neck; maybe he was a bit rough, but she didn't complain. "...Makes your skin tingle." She adds, a half-whisper.

His response is to chuckle, low and dark, sexy. "I bet." Although he had tried to control his voice, the insinuations behind his words, the intensity of his voice make her shudder. "I'll make it tingle too." He more feels than hears the sharp intake of breath that he elicits. "I promise." Jack only whispered the last words into Gwen's wet hair, while his hands still massage the area of her shoulders and neck and he grins when he feels goose-bumps emerge again. He knows he is a smug bastard in this but he'd be damned if he didn't enjoy Gwen's delicious bodily reactions to aural triggers to the fullest.

Silence envelops them, the only sound their breathing, Jack's steady and calm but bordering to heavy and Gwen's more shallow and rapid, and the running water from the shower; they are surrounded by warm steam. The vapor condensates on his skin, forming small droplets, a cooling film on his hot skin, while the warm water flows, pools around their feet and scented foam slowly trickles down the delicate female curves of Gwen's naked body.

After a while she finally relaxes, her facial expression going soft, jaw unclenching, lips slightly parted, tension leaving shoulder and arms, her breathing becoming more centred and steady, her chest no longer heaving and Jack smiles to himself. Jack Harkness was a patient man, who always got what he wanted, because one of the luxuries that came with being immortal was the possibility to just stand down and wait; in this particular case he had waited longer than anytime before, though.

Ten more minutes of his hands working their magic on her shoulders and back and Gwen is literally purring in contentment like a cat. The low hum emerges from the back of her throat, too low to really be registered by the human ear, but he can feel it in his hands as it vibrates through her body. Definitively one of the sexiest and most arousing things he ever encountered.

Starting at the shoulders and upper back had been relatively safe because he guessed it wouldn't unnecessarily unsettle Gwen, but now he wanted to get a bit more exploratory and Jack had always been a risk taker. Apart from that personality trait he wasn't sure he was thinking straight anymore, because, despite his efforts on concentrating to _just_ massage Gwen's shoulders, the sensuality of his hands easily sliding over her damp, slippery and silken skin, kneading her flesh had him aroused so fiercely that he thought he'd burst if he didn't find his release anytime soon. _God_... having his sexual activities restricted by the prudishness of this era had definitively caused his control over these things to slack.

After taking another portion of the shower gel he watches Gwen's face intently as his hands glide down her arms now, coating her skin with scented foam. Her lips twitch a little when he places a kiss to the palm of her right hand, but her eyes rest closed, her face relaxed, almost smiling; she is still purring. He carefully, diligently turns his attention to her hands, concentrating for a while on those slender fingers, gentle but strong, before he slowly trails back up her arm. When he starts to draw lazy circles with his fingers onto the sensitive and soft skin of her carefully shaved armpits, Gwen shivers again, just a little; maybe he is just tickling her, though. After all, this is one of the areas on the body that is, among other things, supposed to be ticklish.

His hands find their way to her chest, pausing on her collarbone where he can feel her pulse against his fingertips; the pace is quickening again. She gasps a little, blushing rather furiously when he carefully, gently soaps her breasts. A strange, almost broken, half-strangled sound escapes Gwen's lips when his thumbs brush over the aureoles, circling the already erect nipples.

Satisfied by this response his hands slide down towards her stomach, flat against her ribcage and he can't resist the urge to place a kiss on her pierced navel, gently tugging at the metal with his teeth after he kneeled down in front of her. The blatantly desperate pant from Gwen following this action causes a very smug smile to spread on his lips.

"Jack... really, can you..." She twitches a little now, her body squirming, trying to actively avoid his touch on the sides her stomach; the skin literally ripples when the muscles twitch.

"Shhh. Steady Gwen. And keep your eyes closed."

She leans her head back, facing skyward, towards the ceiling, before she bursts into a fit of giggles which shakes her whole body. "Right..." He can see her visibly swallow, a squeal almost making it past her lips this time. "But for Christ's sake stop tickling me!"

That makes him laugh. "As you wish."

He is still kneeling in front of her, his face only inches away from her heated skin, only inches away from her carefully shaved pubes; every time his breath hits the skin low on her taut stomach she trembles a little, goose-bumps rising again. Gwen had surrendered herself completely to his touch and although Jack is the one on his knees, she is the one in the submissive, subservient position, allowing, trusting, granting him to just do as he pleases.

Jack could tell Gwen was excited, maybe even thoroughly thrilled by what he was doing and if it hadn't been for the scent of mint dominating the air surrounding them he was sure he would've been able to smell her arousal at this proximity. Her skin is radiating warmth off, slightly flushed and when his hands slide over her arse, down her thighs to come up front again, she is still seemingly getting hotter, almost burning under his palms as he caresses the velvety, but vulnerable skin he finds on the inside of her thighs.

The intimacy of what he is doing, what she allows him to do is nearly overwhelming now as his fingers massage her thighs, glide over those slender but muscled legs to shortly grip her calves, down to her ankles, caress, or maybe tickle the sensitive flesh in the hollow of her knee on his way back up; he feels more than a bit lightheaded.

Gwen is chewing rather furiously on her bottom lip, her teeth biting down on it roughly and he can clearly see that the lip is already reddened, swollen from the constant assault. Her eyes are still firmly closed, the lids pressed shut vigorously as it seems, brows furrowed in concentration, her breathing heavy; hands clenched to fists at her sides.

"What about Ianto?" She literally chokes the words out, voice trembling as much as her body.

Trust Gwen to be already halfway to the nirvana and still be able to make him and herself feel guilty and frustrated. The problem with human emotions was and always would be, even in the 51st century, that lust and aggression were just too close together on the same scale and he takes a deep calming breath to fight the urge to succumb to violence; after all there is a dangerous dark side in him that just waits for a chance to surface. Just for the fraction of a second he hates her for playing with him, torturing him, teasing him, albeit subconsciously, before he suppresses the highly inept, fleeting, threatening feeling. After all she is hardly to fault for the way reacts towards her.

However Jack doesn't even try to bite back on the frustration, the annoyance which is almost bordering to anger, even his patience can run thin. "I sent him home." His voice is low, he is almost growling; it's a warning.

And Gwen, either oblivious or too stubborn to care, chooses to ignore it. "That's not what I meant."

_I know!_ This was another reason why he had tried so hard and so long to stay away from Gwen. She was a too good person, too gentle, too empathic, too committing, always eager to do the right thing even when she didn't. But he just doesn't want to think about it, not now, and if he could choose: not ever. It wasn't her fault that this situation was so difficult for her, though; not everybody had the luck to be born in a time with his totally different (some people scoffed: _absent_) moral standards. A loving husband at home was definitively a very sound and safe reason to try and withstand him with everything she could muster, at least from her point of view. He on the other hand would only think about how to deal with Ianto when he came to that; after all, improvising was one of his many talents.

Gwen abruptly snaps him out of his reverie after some moments of awkward silence. "Jack... you're hurting me." Her voice is as soft as her fingers as they briefly caress his hands, which are gripping her thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He hadn't even realised that his fingers painfully dug into her flesh.

Jack just stares at her, at that beautiful, gorgeous and completely naked woman, standing in front of him, eyes still closed, still trusting him, holding his hands gently in hers while his eyes find the red marks his fingers left on her pale, freckled skin. Gwen was a believer and she had chosen to believe in him, completely, beyond any reason, without reservations, without setting any conditions; her willing display of blind trust thrilled him. _God_... _how much I want her!_ All he wished to do now was to love her until the world stopped turning.

He stands back up, his legs a bit stiff after kneeling for quite some time on the hard floor, and pulls her with him under the spray of water to wash the soap off of her body. His arms encircle her waist and for the moment he is completely content with just holding her, although his erection is pressing against her stomach, reminding both of them of their earlier heated encounter. He can feel Gwen's breathing against his chest, rapid and laboured, a slight trembling going through her body. "I don't care about the consequences." He whispers, his left hand tangling in her hair, lips trailing down the delicate line of her jaw. "I don't care about anything... _I just want you_." Pure desire was talking out of him, again, the closeness of her warm soft body making him giddy.

And Gwen was still obviously having second thoughts, slightly inclining her head, getting out of his reach. She finally opens her eyes, staring right back at him and this time he isn't telling her to keep them shut any longer. Her big eyes, at the moment seemingly more brown than green, unbelievably beautiful, fix on him intently, a defiant stare. He couldn't keep the frustration he felt from displaying in his voice any longer. "Are you waiting for something?"

"Actually I am still waiting for you to tell me to go home, you know, eat lasagna, kiss my husband..." It's almost hilarious, having this kind of conversation while she already is naked in his arms, so close, _so close_. She swallows visibly, her hands lying on his biceps'; helpless and strong and oh-so-vulnerable all at once. This time it is Jacks heart rate speeding up, the beating becoming fluttery and excited.

"And why should I do that?"

Gwen gently squeezes his arm, slightly shaking her head. "Because it would be the right thing to do, Jack. We're friends, best friends. I really shouldn't be here and we shouldn't do this. So I better go now." She pointedly looks from where his hands hold her to his face and back, waiting for him to let her go. He knows that she is expecting him to let her go, as he always did, but this time he is not going to meet her expectations.

Jack can't, Jack won't let her go. Instead of loosening his grip on her, he pulls her closer, kissing her until they have to pull apart, breathless. "I'm tired of doing the right thing." There is a bitterness in his voice that even surprises himself; they are so close now his lips brush hers with every word. Gwen just stares at him, those astonishingly innocent eyes, more brown than green at that moment, widened with surprise, pupils already or still slightly dilated. "Doing the right thing killed Owen and Tosh and it will probably kill you and Ianto too at some point." Jack swallows, suddenly almost overwhelmed by a wave of emotions he thought securely shut away and buried deep down within him; love and loss and longing. "Let me love you tonight, Gwen." _I want to lose myself in you_.

Maybe it was the almost desperate tone of his voice that melted Gwen's resolve or maybe he was misinterpreting her actions, but at least he thinks he saw her slightly nodding before hugging him, leaning against him, arms coming to rest at his back, head resting against his chest. It is a purely friendly, almost comforting gesture and that's an alarming notion for him, dampening his hopes and desire a little, although her naked body is pressed completely against his. Wet warm naked skin on wet warm naked skin. They stand still, as if frozen in time, the water pouring down on them, neither of them knowing what to do.

"We should dry ourselves, before we start growing webs."

***

Later Gwen was sitting on the bench in front of the lockers, tightly wrapped in a white fluffy towel, slicking her wet hair back. He catches her secretly staring at him, lips slightly parted, obviously very much enjoying what she is seeing and Jack can't help but smirk. While he had had Gwen's naked body to look at all the time while they were in the shower, she had not yet gotten the chance to see him in all his naked glory before, especially not in his current state of half-arousal.

He knew how he looked naked and what that view did to people and he also knew how much more impressive he looked naked and wet. When he wipes some of the water droplets from his smooth chest with a towel Gwen's tongue darts out nervously, moistening her lips. Their eyes met and she must realise that he caught her watching him, causing a slightly embarrassed blush to spread on her cheeks as she looks away quickly.

He was probably pushing his luck here, but he'd always loved to take some risks and Gwen was comfortably nestled down in the towel, warm, cozy, relaxed, skin flushed; a definitively promising base for whatever would happen. "Let's go to bed." His voice is all but cooing, luring, a guttural call of temptation. He had laid out the bait, always the perfect seducer, and all he has to do, all he can do now is to wait for Gwen's final decision.

For some moments, which feel like an eternity to Jack, she just stares at his outstretched hand as if it was something entirely alien. He can see both the doubts, the fear, the guilt and on the other hand the excitement, the thrill that he felt surging through her earlier, on her face, battling for dominance. Finally her eyes meet his, shining green orbs now, full of emotions, full of life; and he just knows that she was going to share it with him.

Her hand is warm and soft in his as he leads her towards his bunk, a content, satisfied smile on his face; he is going to make sure that Gwen will never get tired of following him, just as he promised on their first meeting.


	3. Keeping the Promise

A/N: Oh my God! I did it. I committed smut, I really did and serious smut at that. And it took me only two and half weeks! Yay! I'm so proud of myself.

Anyway… I honestly think I overdid it a little now, though. Maybe I should have gone for quick and dirty, instead of painstakingly detailed, but… That's how I write and I just love descriptions and enumerations of verbs and adjectives.

And then suddenly, there was this preach from school/books in my head: don't act irresponsible, don't get pregnant, don't give AIDS a chance and I went all educative; lol.

* * *

**Keeping the Promise**

Gwen was a beautiful sight, kneeling on his bed, straightened, completely naked, slightly blushing, and best of it: _his_, at least for this night. The thought and the accompanying fantasies literally make his skin tingle with barely controlled lust and Gwen, lovely, innocent Gwen, who has no idea in how many of his lewd fantasies she has already starred, just stares at him as he stands in front of the bed, watching her, her eyes wide, but a little bit unfocused as if she is deep in thoughts, engrossed in what she sees, those gorgeous lips slightly parted.

"Oh God... you're such a beautiful man." She finally says or rather blurts out, her voice barely above a whisper and her cheeks flush a little more. Gwen is biting down on her lip again and Jack can't help but smile at her words, making her smile in return, a little shy maybe but all toothy and adorable.

He crawls onto the bed, trying not to look too much like the predator he is in that very moment, slowly, as the heat is starting to coil in the back of his spine again, desire and what could only be called voluptuousness threatening to overwhelm him. "You're not so bad yourself." His low, hoarse voice alone is already enough to make her slightly shiver in anticipation, when he leans in closer, his hot breath tickling on her skin. So close, but not yet touching he can already feel the heat radiating off of Gwen's bath- or rather shower-warmed body only to meet with his own, desire-fuelled.

He gently takes hold of one of her hands and this simple touch alone sends a jolt of electricity through him. Starting to first kiss the freckled back of her hand, before he turns it and places light kisses to the palm, the pulse point at her wrist, he travels up her arm to her neck, the open mouthed kisses leaving a wet trail along her skin. Although Jack always imagined their first time to be urgent, fierce and passionate when he'd finally get through to Gwen, he is taking his time with this now, his touch on her warm skin deliberately, knowingly, almost excruciatingly slow, despite the aching need burning in his groin. If he should only have this one night, this one chance to be with her, then he wants to savour every moment, every caress, every kiss, every taste; creating memories.

Placing careful kisses on her shoulders and neck, he pays special attention to the slight shifts and changes in Gwen's breathing, the short little gasps he sometimes elicits, the moments when the breath hitches in her throat, searching for exclusively sensitive spots. It's always exciting, downright thrilling to explore the body of a new lover, to find all the sensitive, susceptible, highly excitable places worth touching, tasting, savouring, to indulge in the novelty of responses, noises, scent; intoxicating, exhilarating. And Jack Harkness is determined to devour her, in every way and then some.

A little coaxing, sucking and licking, teeth lightly scraping the skin behind her ear and Gwen bends her head slightly backwards, allowing him better access to her neck, literally baring her throat to him. Her hands are gliding over his arms, his back, the movements gentle, caressing, albeit a little erratic, leaving scorching hot trails on his already burning skin.

There is a small spot on the left side of her neck, that whenever he touches it with his fingers, with his lips, with his tongue, causes the breath to hitch in Gwen's throat and makes her tremble. He sucks a little at it, not yet forcefully enough to leave a mark, although he knows he will definitively indulge in this particular guilty pleasure of his later, licks over the assaulted skin and finally lets his teeth graze the sensitive spot, an action that not only sends a shiver down her spine but causes a low throaty moan to escape her lips.

"You like that, huh?" He affectionately smiles at her.

"Yeah..." Gwen breathes, meeting his gaze. He loves the way her eyes seem to sparkle now in iridescent green, passionate, attentive, so unbelievably alive. "...I'm so going to hell for this." Her eyes roll halfway back into her skull as his right hand now scrapes over the tips of her erect nipples, just barely touching, teasing.

Jack grins and can't suppress an almost feral sounding moan himself when Gwen's finger seemingly accidentally brush over his erection, and his words become a breathy whisper into her ear. "I'll make sure it's a pleasant journey then."

That elicits, apart from an even more delicious shudder, a short outburst of too shrill, too hysteric laughter, alarming him. He carefully cups her face in both his hands, locking his eyes with hers, staring down at her. "No regrets, Gwen."

She closes her eyes for a moment, swallowing visibly, but finally she nods, slowly, hesitantly; her voice is firm. "No regrets." It's probably a lie or at least a half-truth and he knows it, but he had always marvelled the consistency of her actions; Gwen made her decision and now she won't run from it, consequences be damned. That's an attitude he clearly favours, despite the problems her stubbornness could cause where work was concerned.

"Mhm..." he breathes against her lips before carefully pressing his to hers, gentle, tender, his tongue sweeping caressingly over her pliant lips until she sighs into the kiss, leaning against him, arms wrapping around his neck. There is no need, no reason anymore for the rushed, overtly passionate kisses they shared earlier in his attempt to claim her, to make her his; Gwen won't go anywhere, at least not tonight, because tonight she is _his_ and his alone.

***

A/N: Since the rating M is inappropriate for the rest of the story, you guys here only get an short excerpt. You can access the whole story in my LJ, just click on "Homepage" in my profile.

Furthermore I really appreciate and encourage any reader to comment/review, either here or in the LJ, since this is my first attempt in writing an explicit sex scene and put plainly I'm curious as to what others think about it.


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